Arguments
by national babe
Summary: A small thing I wrote, it gives literally no backstory, but it centers around Chell and Wheatley together and the family the have. The title is a bit of a misnomer as there isn't a single argument, but it is a cute and fluffy one. I think it's the only fluffy Chelley fic I've written.


Chell stared at her companion, who was shrinking himself till she had to look down slightly at him, which made the broken pottery at his feet more apparrent.

"I'm sorry." Wheatley said, barely above a whimper. "I didn't mean to I'm sorry."

It had been her favorite, the first one she had made. It wasn't the most elaborate, but it was the only one she wasn't planning on selling to the struggling community in which they live. The market was five miles east, and could barely be considered one, but it was all they had.

Her foot started tapping as she breathed deeply in through the nose to calm herself. This was misinterpreted as her reaching her last straw. He looked as though he would break down any second, but managed to hold himself together long enough to say "I'll just go" in his most pathetic voice yet as he turned and started to leave.

Her mouth fell. No. No he can't leave.

"Wheatley" She said, furious her voice wasn't portraying any emotion "Wheatley," she tried again, forcing concern into the word.

He came to a flinching halt, visibly shaking.

She walked around him, and wrapped her arms around him tightly.

"What- what's this?" He sounded confused, probably never having been hugged in a moment like this before.

"Its an 'I'm sorry' hug. I- I didnt mean for you to leave. This, a fair chunk of this whole fiasco is my fault." She buried her face in his shoulder, fighting off tears of her own.

"But I'M the one who broke your pot. You didn't do that, I did."

"I know. And you feel so bad that you fell that I don't want you anymore. I've been forcing this standard of perfection on everything, because my whole life has had that same standard on it. Black and white. Fail or succeed. No inbetween. And I have been trying to force that on you, when you don't operate in that standard, and you feel as though if you don't fit, that you are unworthy. But you are not."

"I- I'm not?" His voice was craking, and they had both sunken to the floor, her still holding him.

"No Wheatley. You are teaching me things I would never learn on my own. Life isn't black and white, it can have color and mishaps, and if I don't win at something, it won't always result in my death anymore. And I care for you. You couldn't survive out there on your own, and no one else will understand you or accept you. I can't let you leave. You mean too much."

He finally broke, sobbing and wrapping his arms around her as she cried lightly too.

"It was just a pot Wheatley. Replaceable. You can't be replaced, and I don't want to have to try."

"Don't worry luv, I promise never to go anywhere."

And he didn't.

That had by no measure been their last confrontation, there would be many to come, with some being over small things, others important. Some with Chell winning, some Wheatley, and sometimes they came to a compromise. But their relationship was not all arguments. Chell had many fond memories, such as when Wheatley had surprised her with a two seater luxury swing, or when he had gathered a bouquet of roses for her, and especially when they had gone to the market for a marriage ceremony.

He had wanted the whole get up too, dress, a big meal, champagne, which she had refused to allow, everything. She countered that he had been reading to many salvaged romance novels and that they should stick with what was common now-a-days, but she really hadn't had any ground to argue on, and so helped him plan the ceremony. They had even had an artist draw them together.

Of course, there had been more debates after that, the biggest being over children. Wheatley had been promoting the idea, with Chell against, until they had been convinced by the other at the same time, and Chell was on board with the idea and Wheatley scared with it.

Now, Chell sat on the swing he had made for her years ago, as she watched him run around with Harmony Lilly on his shoulders, the two of them laughing.

"Mommy Mommy! Mommy I can fly! Lookie!" Their daughter shouted.

"I can see that sweetie. Is it fun?"

"YEAH"

Chell smiled, and looked over at the grumpy stray cat that sat on the rail. Lily had come home with him after having found him in the wilderness, and begged for them to let her keep him.

"What do you think flea bag? You wanna fly too?"

He meowed ungratefully at her generous offer.

Lilly ran over and picked him up, stroking his matted gray fur. "You're not a flea bag Charles! I wuv you!" She rubbed her face in his fur as he purred.

Wheatley joined her on the swing. "C'mon luv. He's not too bad."

"Flea bag is my term of endearment." She said with a strait face, putting his hand on her belly so he could feel the baby moving slightly.

He laughed and laid his head in her lap with his ear against her stomach speaking to his second child.

"Your mother is no fun. Be like daddy. Daddy is all the fun."

She pushed him, the slightest amount really, and he tumbled off the swing with a yelp.

"All the fun? I disagree. Who's fun now?"

He laughed, before springing up, sweeping her into his arms, and running off with her shouting "WHO'S FUN INDEED CHELL" contrasted with her shouts of "WHEATLEY IF YOU DON'T PUT ME DOWN RIGHT NOW I SWEAR"

Years later, we see them still together. 3 kids, 2 cats, a dog, and so many frogs and earthworms. So many. She has a streak of grey growing in her jet black hair, and his blonde has lost some of its hue as they lay, once again, on the swing.

She smiles to herself.

This was the life she had always wanted, surrounded by those she loved. She didn't need to tell Wheatley this. He already knew.

Sure, they still argued, who doesn't? But they loved each other, and that's what they wanted.

He wrapped his arm around her waist, and they fell asleep together.


End file.
